The King: T'Challa.

Chapter 20: Return Of The King

The air outside Shuri's lab was thick with heat and smoke. Vibranium crates were being loaded onto sleek ships, their engines glowing like coals as they prepared for take-off. Everything moved with brutal efficiency—until the sky tore open. One of the transports was struck, spiralling downwards before exploding against the distant cliffs in a bloom of fire.

The platform trembled. Soldiers froze mid-step. All eyes turned to the wreckage.

From the haze, a figure emerged—burned but unbroken, the panther's silhouette unmistakable in the shimmering glow of Vibranium.

Okoye's voice rang beside Emily, sharp with something between awe and relief.

"He lives."

Emily felt her knees weaken. Against every odd, T'Challa had returned. Alive. Breathing. Walking out of fire like it had bent to his will. She turned her head—N'Jadaka's jaw was tight, fury etched into every line of his face. For once, the predator had miscalculated.

He didn't hesitate. His eyes cut to W'Kabi.

"Kill him."

Before W'Kabi could move, Okoye's spear snapped across N'Jadaka's chest like a barred gate. Her voice cracked like thunder.

"Do not, W'Kabi. The challenge is not complete."

But W'Kabi only met her eyes with a soldier's steel, then drew his blade in one clean motion.

"Charge!"

His war-cry echoed across the platform as his men surged forward.

Emily stared at N'Jadaka, rage building in her chest.

"What are you doing?"

His response was cold, almost casual.

"Removing the threat."

"You mean murdering the rightful King. You're not protecting Wakanda—you're choking it." Her voice dropped, low and hard. "You're a heartless bastard. And you don't deserve that throne."

She didn't wait for his reply. She turned on her heel, leaving Okoye and the Dora to shoulder his wrath. If T'Challa was truly back, then so too would Nakia, Shuri—and Ross.

Emily ran the corridors, her side aching, until she burst into Shuri's lab. Relief hit her like air after drowning: Shuri stood there, alive and whole.

"Shuri."

The girl spun, eyes widening before she sprinted across the floor, throwing her arms around Emily's waist.

"Thank Bast—you're safe."

Emily laughed breathlessly, pulling back just enough to hold her by the shoulders.

"I couldn't let you steal all the glory, now could I?"

Shuri chuckled, hugging her again quickly before stepping back. Emily's gaze lifted—and landed on Ross, upright and alert, though pale.

"Good to see the gorillas didn't eat you," Emily quipped, a tired grin tugging at her mouth.

Ross smirked faintly, folding his arms.

"Good to see that mouth of yours hasn't finally got you killed."

Emily pointed at him, clicking her tongue.

"Touché."

The doors hissed open. Instinct flared—Emily spun, pulling Shuri behind her—only to find Nakia striding in, clad in the crimson of the Dora. The sight stilled Emily for a moment.

"It suits you," she said, a flicker of a smile.

Nakia gave a short, humourless laugh. "It's borrowed. Nothing more."